THREE WISE MONKEYS

Hey! pale-blue11 here!

I'm back :D Saw snow for the first time, which was exciting

To the Guest—Ed experienced it as if it were several weeks because he wasn't really able to keep track of time, and he felt it was longer that it was. Thanks for the review :)

CHAPTER TWELVE • The Third Thursday

Ed hated hospitals with a passion.

Sick patients, mourning visitors, uncomfortable beds, and people constantly wandering in and out of rooms made them smelly, confining, and noisy. Even military hospitals couldn't avoid that.

But Ed was seriously going crazy. Paper littered the floor around his bed, torn pages from his notebook, and the same word was written on all:

'Automail'.

Being forced to stay in hospital was bad enough, but being forced to stay in the same room… It reminded him of what he was trying to forget. Unfortunately, Ed was coming to understand that it was near impossible to obliterate three or four weeks of memories. Especially when reminders were everywhere.

He had no automail—that was the big one. He was completely immobilised and at the hospital's mercy. If they wanted him to jump off a cliff, all they'd have to do is drive him there. If his bed was set on fire, they could watch him convulse and spasm, flames and red lightning licking his bones dry. There was no way for him to escape, and he was sure they realised that.

Ed traced his fingers over the scar on his collarbone again, touching every bump and line. 'F'. What came after that? What could it possibly spell? Even after two days in the hospital, he hadn't figured it out. It was almost at the point where he'd ask someone, but every time he shied away. Alphonse would have told him, but… Ed didn't really want to see him. Something about the way his body reflected the hospital lights sent a thrill of fear down Ed's spine. And the spike on his head…

But Ed wasn't going to think about that anymore. Tuesday had been brutal—slipping in and out of reality at the drop of a pin—and Ed really didn't want to digress back to that state. He was still really jumpy and twitched at every sound, but at least the hallucinations were getting better. Envy hadn't visited for almost three hours, and there was only the mattress propped against the wall to enforce the fact that it wasn't over yet.

There was a knock on the door and Ed jumped in surprise, watching his unexpected visitor inch uneasily into the room.

'Winry'. His lips formed the words, but nothing save for a whisper of breath escaped. It was frustrating, being unable to talk, but the doctor had assured him it would most likely be temporary. He just had to get past the nightmares first.

"Edward?" she said softly, eyes wide as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. And what was she seeing? Ed had no idea—they had washed his hair a day previous, and most of the blood had been cleaned away, but with nothing more than emptiness in place of his arm and leg, he probably looked horrific.

And suddenly he understood the reason behind her expression. It was just like before. Just like his automail surgery. But unlike then, Winry held a new notebook, and her doll was nowhere to be seen. The plain shorts and shirt she wore were also much more suitable than a pretty summer dress.

Yet across her face flitted the same emotions: uncertainty, longing, anger, terror, worry, dread.

Unsure of what she wanted—perhaps they both were—Ed raised his arm and attempted a smile. Not a second later, Winry darted over to his side and pulled him into a strong hug. A strange noise—a sort of gurk—came from Edward's throat, but he returned the embrace as best he could with one arm. Winry's face was buried in his right shoulder and her slender back trembled with the force of holding back her tears. With a little hesitation, Ed gave in and rested his own head in the crook of Winry's neck.

"I-I thought you were dead," she sniffled, her hold tightening at that admittance. "I thought you'd died! A-and when th-they wouldn't let m-me in yesterday, I-I-I—"

Winry tried to break away, but Ed didn't let her. There was so much comfort in her presence, in her warmth, that he never wanted her to leave. He held on with all his diminished strength, feeling twin tracks of heat running down his cheeks. Tears.

"I thought something had happened," Winry finished in a shaky whisper. Ed rubbed her back, hoping to show her that he was okay. It didn't matter whether he spoke truths or lies—he could barely find the crease where reality ended and immortality began.

There were no sounds beside their breaths and pounding heartbeats, but Edward felt as if they were finally coming to an understanding. He needed to stop taking so many risks. He needed to stop underestimating his opponents. Too many scars marred his soul, tearing it to shreds, since that was the only refuge for the wounds that healed too fast. Even the hand fisted in Winry shirt wasn't his own. It was a copy, a fake, and his real one was gone. It made him wonder how much of his body was truly his, and how much was no more than a grotesque imitation.

"Ed…" Winry finally succeeded in pushing him away, and he stared up at her from his pillow, curious. Her gaze flew around the room, glancing first at the small vase of flowers, then to the paper-strewn floor, to the white walls, the ceiling, the open window, and back to Ed. "Al… he told me that you c-can't talk. So I-I brought some paper, if you want it."

Edward nodded eagerly and accepted the gift without pause. The last notebook was empty, its contents covering the ground like a strange carpet. The new one was almost exactly the same: blank sheets of paper within a cheap plastic binding. But the cover he held was the colour of the sky in Risembool, not black. It was oddly calming.

He flipped it open, and on the first page, wrote, "Thank you'. Winry, rather than be glad her present was received with such good grace, just looked at him sadly.

"So Al was right," she said, sounding more than a little disappointed. "I thought… maybe…"

Ed huffed, scowling as he scratched out some more words. 'I'm not doing it on purpose'.

"I know!" Winry quickly amended, visibly distressed. "I know that! It's just so… not fair. Why do you have to lose so much? And why do we have to watch it happen?"

For several moments, only the pencil moved. 'It's not that surprising'.

"Stop it. Stop talking… writing like that!" Winry cried desperately, her hands bunching into fists. "You're just as shocked as we are! Admit it!"

'After three weeks, I didn't—'

Winry tore the notebook out of his grasp before he could finish, causing the last letter to end in a long, black line. Ed reached for the book and almost toppled off the bed, but Winry pushed him back. Her lips moved soundlessly and then she paused, giving Ed a long, searching look. Ed fought down the need to growl, seeing as there wasn't much else he could do to vocalise his displeasure. But Winry wasn't angry, or sad. Just confused. It was hard to get a read on her emotions, since they changed by the second.

"Ed." Slowly, she placed the notebook by his hand. "You said it was three weeks?"

The boy hesitated, put off by her tone, and then shrugged, holding up four fingers as if to say 'maybe more'. But the way she was watching him was unnerving. Pitiful, even.

"It's only been one week."

Ed searched her honest face for some sign of a joke, but there was nothing. Either she had improved her lying ability while he was gone, or…

She was telling the truth.

One week. Did all of that really happen in just one week? But how?

The tests, the baths, the hunger, the dehydration, the embarrassment, the pain, the numbness, the dehumanisation, the humiliation, the torture, the knife…

One week.

It was unthinkable. In less than seven days, Ed had been reduced to… to a pet. He had always thought his will to be as his name—Fullmetal—but in truth it was more like a seashell. A single well-placed boot and he would shatter. And once again, he heard Envy's voice.

"Pathetic."

He turned terrified eyes towards the corner of the room, ignoring Winry's questions. As if he had always been there, Envy lifted his arm in a wave.

"Hey, Fullmetal," he greeted. "Miss me?"

Ed closed his eyes tight, willing the vision away. He had to leave, that damned monster. Ed couldn't… he couldn't let Winry know.

"What makes you think I'm a vision?" the homunculus asked, sounding genuinely interested. "Because that girl can't see me? She can't see you either, though, can she? Not really."

Shut up.

"She thinks you're normal—isn't that great! Well? Are you gonna tell her, Fullmetal? If she stays with you'll she'll get hurt! And she can't come back to life."

Shut up.

"What?" Envy's face fell into one of infantile innocence, eyes wide and begging to be believed. "You must have figured that out before, right? She's only human, but you…" a sinister, menacing grin pulled wider and wider, spreading to Cheshire cat proportions, "me… We're much more, aren't we?"

Shut up! You bastard!

"Am I making you angry?" While his tone was sweet and concerned, the disturbing smile never faded. "Well, Shorty? Am I?"

Stop it. Stop talking.

"Am I making you angry? Confused? Frustrated? Come on, Fullmetal!" Envy pushed off the wall, bounding forward until their noses were less than an inch apart. Ed flinched back, closing his eyes. He wasn't sure if his shaking was caused by Envy or Winry. "Give me something!"

No… Stop!

The notebook slipped from his shuddering chest, landing on the ground with a fwap! Winry was calling him, frantically, rocking his shoulder, softly slapping his face, but it had no effect. Like a light rain carried by the wind, her touch made no more of an impression than the tiny, lingering sparks of icy water. Sharp and shocking at first, but soon forgotten in place of more important, urgent thoughts.

And then, like the damp fog that disperses each morning, she vanished at the first sign of sunlight. The sunlight, in that case, was the heat of panic and uncertainty, burning through Ed's mind as he fought—

—not real not here not coming not gonna hurt—

—to calm himself, to still his trembling, and to make his problems less obvious. It was okay if they were hidden, because that made them easier to ignore. But out in the open, in front of everyone, visible to judging and pitying eyes… it would be harder to pretend that nothing was wrong.

"And there is something wrong, isn't there?" Envy sneered, dancing back a step or two. "I can help you figure it out, Fullmetal. You just need to say two words. Just two! Aren't I being generous? Though I'm sure the prodigy child," his lip curled distastefully, "could work out his problems without my help."

Then the smirk returned in full force and Envy started to trail his fingers along Ed's leg. Even through the hospital sheets and the voices telling him 'it's not real', the gentle caress raised goose bumps wherever it fell. Ed bit his lip so hard it drew blood, blood that was washed away in an instant, leaving nothing behind. Like waves on a beach, the pain left only a dimple of the footprints that once resided on the sand; a dimple comprised of suffering and doubt, but nothing physical. Water filled the indentation, but it was a poor substitution for the wonderful, undisturbed peace that once blessed the coastline.

Envy squeezed Ed's ankle and then released, allowing his phantom hand to rest on the shaking joint. "You're gonna need to hurry this up, little alchemist," the homunculus said. He could have been discussing the cost increase of apples for all the emotion he exhibited. "Your friend's coming back with help. Not the right help, of course, but that's to be expected."

Ed hadn't opened his eyes, but he could imagine Envy's face: teasing, self-satisfied, gloating… The monster knew that he was winning. Whatever mental stability Edward had regained over the past forty-eight hours was quickly and hurriedly unravelling.

"Humans really are pathetic. You know that now, right?"

He did. Ed finally understood. It had only taken one knife. One knife, the psychotic manifestation of a human sin, and a single week to reduce him to a state that he would have previously thought absurd. But he was strong. He'd get past it. He'd rebuild the shattered remnants of his sanity, his courage, his identity, and move forward. Beyond the nightmares, the carpets of blood and broken glass, and into a future too bright to look at. It was bright with possibility.

Ed felt, rather than saw, Envy nodding. "That's right, Fullmetal. You're stronger than them. You're almost as strong as us."

'Us'. Ed had no doubt in regards to who 'us' was. And he didn't like what Envy was implying.

"You don't have to like it." Envy laughed, leaning on the bed frame for support as joy wracked his body. "It's the truth! And what's that old saying? Oh yeah."

Cold fingers pried open Ed's eyelids, revealing gold that should have never been mined. "It's hard to swallow. But swallow, Fullmetal! Swallow, bite, tear, gnaw," each word was fire to the furnace that birthed Envy's grin, "devour it until there's nothing left! You might have lost your purpose in Father's schemes, but that doesn't mean we can't find something else for you to do."

Envy's image dispersed as someone ran right through him, seizing the sides of Ed's head and trying to force his gaze up. But he couldn't tear it away from the floral mattress, the only source of consistency, of stability, in a world that was steady falling to pieces.

There are a lot of water similes in here, aren't there?

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